


Cotton And Conundra

by Cerdic519



Series: The Dashwood Inheritance [9]
Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen, Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Industrial Revolution, American Civil War (background), Destiel - Freeform, Devonshire, England (Country), Failed pregnancy (mention), London, M/M, Omega Castiel, Oxford, Period Typical Attitudes, References to Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-16 00:41:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13042923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: Yes, after a prequel, base story and six sequels, here's yet anotherSense and SensibilityDestiel (no Jane, I can't stop!). It is now 1861. This year sees the United Kingdom establishing a base at Lagos in Africa to stop Central African kingdoms from slave trading, the Kingdom of Italy being proclaimed in Rome, and an event in the United States that will one day be referred to by some very strange people indeed as 'the Recent Unpleasantness'. In the peaceful Culm Valley, Castiel and Dean are in their seventies now, and have settled into a calm, placid and refined old age.If you believed that last one, I have a bridge to sell you. For cash.





	1. Everything But Pestilence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Darmys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darmys/gifts), [Willbakefordean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willbakefordean/gifts), [lovemyboys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovemyboys/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Already beset by a death in the family, events across the wide open sea are set once more to impinge on the lives of Castiel and Dean, both officially retired but still watching over their workers, families and pies. The duo celebrate their double knighthoods in London (and get banned from their hotel for life!) and make their mark in Oxford, whilst there is a ship made of iron.

The scent of grief was palpable, made worse for Castiel by his sensitive omega senses. And despite all his great wealth, there was absolutely nothing he could do to assuage his grandson's grief.

Four years earlier they had used the occasion of Dean's seventieth birthday to announce his (and his omega's) official retirement from running the estate. Although Castiel's (all right, and Dean's) interests stretched far further than Barton Park these days, and people often joked that it was good thing that they had had ten children, as they were nearly all gainfully employed in various parts of it. Last year they had gone up to London where, in what had been a unique ceremony, Queen Victoria had knighted them both, Dean for his work on the estate and Castiel for services to reform, the battle for which continued. Hence it was as Sir Castiel and Sir Dean they returned, although any hopes from their family that their new elevated status might make them tone down their blazing passions towards each other? 

Well, Brown's Hotel in Mayfair would _not_ be having them back after the Black Panties Incident!

Their eldest son Scaden ran the estate with his mate Jesse now, having sold Stoke Park and moved into the Central Wing of the main house, Castiel and Dean retaining the East Wing whilst Cassiel and Goliath (and their twelve children!) more than filled the West Wing. Scaden's son Dane had reached his mid-twenties before he finally found someone he wanted to marry, an omega called Timothy 'Tip' Peters. This had raised one or two eyebrows socially; Tip had been in an abusive relationship with an alpha who had paid the omega's father for him, but he had been persuaded into a divorce (it may have been possible that Goliath had been involved in that 'persuading', and that it may have consisted of statements which, taken in an uncharitable light, might have been taken to suggest the vaguest possibility of a sudden anatomical rearrangement). Certain it was that the abusive alpha decamped for South Africa soon after soon after Goliath had dropp... finished talking with him. 

Castiel knew people well enough to know that there would be more than one snide remark in the town about his new grandson being 'damaged goods', but it had seemed that, in one sense, they were correct. Early last year Tip's first pregnancy had resulted in a stillbirth, and now his second one had ended the same way. 

Dean sighed as he entered the room, and sank exhausted into his chair. 

“I feel so old!” he complained. “Having to run the estate again with Scay busy – I cannot believe it would be so difficult after just four years!”

“Probably all the extra people”, Castiel suggested. “The country's population has doubled in the past sixty years according to last month's census, and we are investing in so much more than just land nowadays.”

“I miss the old days”, Dean sighed. “Serving people, hunting foxes.”

“I never liked you hunting foxes”, Castiel reminded him. “Have you read the letter we got from Cumberland?”

Dean looked at him in surprise.

“Are Charlie and Dorothy all right?” he asked anxiously.

“Yes”, Castiel said, “but they may be facing problems soon enough. A good part of their business was cotton workers from Lancashire enjoying a holiday by the sea, but the famine that has just hit that county will probably affect them too.”

“Famine?” Dean asked confusedly. “Surely they cannot be short of food in this day and age?”

“A cotton famine”, his mate explained. “The factories over-produced for the past two years, and now this terrible civil war in the United States has led to huge amounts of cotton coming onto an already flooded market. It will be a food famine soon enough with all the people out of work.”

“But we are doing something for them?” Dean asked.

“With Charlie's help”, Castiel said. “Fortunately Dorothy's mother is from Lancashire, so she will be a useful contact. And we shall of course offer to tide them both over until business is back to normal, although I have one or two friends in London to whom I shall recommend their hotel.”

“That is my Cas!” Dean grinned. “Always thinking of others.”

The omega smiled.

+~+~+

“Do you really think that Palmerston's government will remain neutral over this American war?” Dean asked at dinner a few days later. 

“It will be difficult”, Castiel said. “Despite the border problems with British North America having been resolved, there are still many areas of tension. But I hardly think that President Lincoln, facing a divided nation, would be so foolish as to take on the supreme maritime power in the world as well. If London recognized the Confederacy, other countries might well follow suit.”

Dean brooded over his pie.

“Like you, I am torn over this”, Castiel said. “Slavery is an evil practice, and has no place in any civilized society. Our sailors do excellent work in Africa and elsewhere, stamping the vile business out. But on the other hand, is it right to stop those states which wish to leave the Union from so doing just because their reasoning is bad? After all, George Washington himself was a slave-owner. And where does one draw the line? It is like freedom of speech; it has to be absolute or it is nothing.”

“It is all a horrible mess!” Dean sighed sadly. “I wish that that cable to the Americas was up and running so we could find out what was happening.”

“I wonder if some day there will be cables like that to people's houses”, Castiel mused. “One could send instant messages around the world from one's own front room. Or link up everywhere, so omegas could spy on alphas who slip off into town looking to get some extra pie and then 'forget' to tell their omegas when later questioned.”

Dean blushed fiercely.

+~+~+

“Well”, Castiel said, “that did not go as expected.”

“What did not?” his husband yawned. They were in bed, breakfast and the paper having just been brought to them. Dean liked this time of the year, when the long August days meant their room warmed up quickly in the early-rising sun.

“The Confederacy have won a battle at a place called Bull Run, not far from Washington D.C.”, Castiel said. “It seems they made the same mistakes we did over two centuries past, when the English Civil War was at first marked by disorganization and general cluelessness.”

“You think that Lincoln will still win, though?” Dean asked.

“It is almost certain”, Castiel said. “Or perhaps, was certain. Consider; the economy of the northern states, and therefore the size of the armies it can raise, is considerably larger than the southern ones, whilst the wealth of the Confederacy comes mostly through trade, like Great Britain. That is why we British are so focussed on our Royal Navy; if we ever lost control of the seas, an enemy could starve us into submission. It is the same with the Confederacy, except their navy is infinitely smaller. Barring one or more disasters by foolish Union generals, Lincoln is almost bound to win. But few things are certain in this world.”

“True”, Dean muttered, his eyes widening as he saw the contents of the tray. “Pie for breakfast?”

Castiel grinned.

“I was planning on helping you burn it off afterwards!”

+~+~+

Some little time later Goliath Ferrers was more than a little surprised when his teenage son Gideon all but ran into his arms yelping something about brain bleach. Apparently he had decided that his father had had no justification in telling him not to call on his grandparents whilst they were still in bed.....

Some young people had to learn things the hard way!

+~+~+

“Sir Dean Ferrers and Sir Castiel Ferrers.”

The secretary bowed as she ushered the two men into a plush office. A tall patrician alpha stood to greet them, looking a little perplexed.

“Gentlemen”, he said. “Welcome to Robertson-Watts College. How may I be of service?”

Castiel nodded at him and took a seat. Dean stood behind him, looking every inch the protective alpha. The pointed cough could, in an uncharitable moment, have been taken for a warning growl.

“I have always wanted to come to Oxford”, Castiel said. “Of course that was not to be as an omega, but I had hoped that one of my children or grandchildren might manage it one day. So, Mr. McAuliffe, you can imagine my disappointment when my grandson was refused admission here.”

“Well, not everyone passes our strict entrance examination”, the alpha said defensively.

“Yes, your entrance examination”, Castiel said thoughtfully. “Mr. McAuliffe, I will be blunt. My grandson Philip applied for a position here, and was told that he had failed the examination. I must tell you however, that I have certain friends who use, ahem, somewhat unorthodox methods to obtain their information. I suspected, and they confirmed it. He had the highest score of all twenty-four candidates.”

The tall alpha had gone pale. He remained silent.

“Now”, Castiel said heavily, “this makes me ask as to why such an egregious error could have been made. I would like to think that the fact Philip inherited his ebony skin from his father had nothing to do with it, but I can see no other explanation. Can you?”

“Well”, the alpha said looking anxiously at Dean who was now gripping the back of the chair hard enough to break it, “perhaps we might recon....”

“I assure you, Mr. McAuliffe, that I have _no_ wish to subject my grandson to such a place as this”, Castiel said coldly. “Indeed, I shall be having words with my friend the prime minister in our next exchange of letters as to the dreadful state of affairs at this establishment. Philip has applied to three other Oxford colleges, and takes his first examination next week.” Castiel paused. “I do hope that they show rather better judgement. If not... well, perhaps reform of these colleges is long overdue. Starting with financial reform, and a thorough going over of _all_ the accounts. Good day.”

Castiel stood and swept from the room, but not before hearing his alpha permit himself a growl at the quivering man they had left behind.

+~+~+

“I would have thought you would have been pleased”, Dean said. 

His grandson Raleigh gave him the sort of look that children up and down the ages have bestowed on irritating elderly relatives. At least until their was a pointed cough from behind a newspaper at the end of the table. The young alpha blushed.

“Young Raleigh can rightly foresee just where this iron ship (1) of the Royal Navy will lead”, Castiel said, lowering his newspaper. “A necessary development, but it means that virtually all other warships in the world become obsolete overnight. And that, of course, resets the strengths of all other country's navies to zero and ours to just one. Plus, I would wager, these ships are much more expensive than wooden ones, even if they do last longer.”

“I would like to go to sea”, Raleigh said dreamily. “Unfortunately I get seasick. Like Grandfather.”

“I do not get seasick!” Dean said defensively.

“Isle of Man”, Castiel coughed into his hand. Dean pouted. 

“That was one time!”

Castiel just looked at him. Dean turned to glare at his sniggering grandson.

“If you even think about saying it....”

“Grandfather, really?” his grandson said, looking hurt. “I would _never_ remark on how owned you are!”

The alpha was sure that his least favourite grandson added something along the lines of 'because everyone already knows'. He glared at him.

+~+~+

“Oh dear.”

They had just come in from a walk, which had been curtailed by a sudden November downpour. Dean looked up at his mate as he took off his coat. Those words were hardly aimed at inspiring confidence.

“Has something happened?” he asked. Castiel nodded.

“An American warship had stopped a British mail packet, the _“Trent”_ , and forcibly taken off two Confederate diplomats. For a man who does not want a second front in his war, President Lincoln seems to be sleepwalking right into getting one!”


	2. Destiel, Actually

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. The “Trent” Affair nearly sends Great Britain to war with the United States but, thanks to some royal intervention, disaster is avoided - mostly. Tip Ferrers finds that he is pregnant, and two iron giants fight an inconclusive battle. The tide of the American war turns, Dean's hand is squeezed, and a member of the family makes a horrible discovery concerning certain leather items.

Dean was chuckling as he came into the room. His mate looked at him inquiringly.

“I know that one really should not say it about family”, he smiled, “but I think that Fen's interest in politics has turned him strange.”

“How so?” Castiel asked.

“He said that he was sure he saw Mr. Palmerston, our esteemed prime minister, being driven away from the house earlier.”

There was a palpable silence. Dean's stomach dropped.

“He was here?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

Dean just stared at his mate.

“And?” he urged.

“And what?” Castiel asked, apparently nonplussed.

“Cas!”

The omega chuckled. His alpha was so cute when he whined.

“He wished to consult me about the _“Trent”_ Affair”, he said. “He thinks very highly of Phoenix, by the way, and that maybe one day he might become.....”

“Cas!”

“All right”, the omega smiled. “Despite his illness, the Prince Consort has insisted that the government be more conciliatory in its response to the American extraction of those two diplomats. The American press is saying how in the wrong we are, apparently 'missing' the fact that half a century ago, they went to war with us because we kept stopping _their_ ships. Many in Palmerston's government think this an excellent chance to hit back, recognize the Confederacy and maybe even push the border with British North America southwards.”

“But the prince does not?” Dean asked.

“He shows a wisdom lacking in many”, Castiel said. “Despite his illness, he insisted on the original letter being re-written, and the Queen stood by him. I urged the prime minister to follow his sage advice; a mild letter would allow Lincoln to back away gracefully, albeit from a mess of his own making. An intemperate one would force his hand to war and cost many lives.”

“Next thing you know, you will be running the country yourself!” Dean joked.

“Why not?” Castiel smiled. “I already run my alpha.”

“Hey!”

+~+~+

The festive season at Barton Park had been muted, as had those for the New Year. The death of the Prince Consort eleven days before Christmas had left the country in mourning and his widow devastated, and the house itself had been disordered when Tip Ferrers had gone into a sudden and unexpected heat, he and his husband withdrawing to their part of the house for the duration. Castiel really hoped that for them, it would be third time lucky.

The cold season was enlivened only by a surprise by-election for the county constituency. Castiel would normally not have been interested in this event, but the Tory candidate, one Captain Michael Bullen, had incited his ire by his pronouncements on the American war, stating that this was an excellent opportunity that Great Britain should take full advantage of. Castiel suspected that there would be at least some covert assistance given to the Confederacy, which the government would 'miss', but he feared the lives that would be lost by a more open involvement. Captain Bullen wanted to send thousands of troops to British North America, an act which the Americans would, in all likelihood, see as a declaration of war.

When Palmerston had become prime minister some two years back, he had looked at the possibility of further electoral reform, but at the time he had not had the support to get it through parliament. He had however effected one small-scale reform, and even that he had had to fight for. Castiel smiled, heaved himself to his feet and ambled over to his writing-desk.

+~+~+

It was a little ironic that the by-election was eventually held not long after Valentine's Day, for there had been little love lost between the two candidates. The count was held at Crediton, which meant two train journeys with a change at Exeter, but the soundings that the omega had taken suggested that it might be worth it. Eventually the Returning Officer, having shown the result to both parties, stood up and made the declaration:  
“I, the Returning Officer for the County Constituency of Devonshire [Northern Division] (1), hereby give notice that the total number of votes cast at the by-election for each candidate was as follows:  
Captain Michael Bullen, Conservative, 8,676 votes,  
James Cooper, Independent, 71 votes,  
Phoenix Ferrers, Liberal, 8,994 votes.  
I hereby declare that Mr. Phoenix Ferrers is duly elected to serve as the member for this constituency.”

Thus was history made, with the first omega ever to be elected to the British Houses of Parliament.

+~+~+

Dean watched amusedly as two his grandsons bickered across the breakfast table. He was sure that his mate was equally entertained, even if Castiel was hiding behind his newspaper.

“This encounter shows that I was right”, Raleigh said smugly. His younger brother Drake just glared at him.

“One swallow does not make a summer”, he said. “Is that not right, papa?”

“I am afraid that I am inclined to agree with your brother on this matter”, Castiel said from behind his paper, thus missing the betrayed look from his fellow omega. “This battle between iron ships in the American war is symbolic; it does indeed reflect the future.”

“Hah!” Raleigh smirked. “I told you, I know all about ships.”

“Well, you were certainly engaged in some docking manoeuvres with Betty from the village the other day!” his brother grinned. Raleigh looked mortified.

“How on earth....”

“Land ho!” Drake teased. “Tie her up and prepare to board!”

Raleigh shrieked and fled from the table.

+~+~+

“I do not like this”, Castiel frowned.

“The government can hardly do anything about it”, Dean said reasonably. “If an American businessman chooses to have a ship capable of running blockades built in this country, they can hardly say that they know it is destined for the Confederacy, and seize it.”

“They may not _know_ ”, Castiel said, “but they can be ninety-nine point nine per cent certain. And anything that prolongs this dreadful war is only a bad thing. If only this new state were not founded on such an evil trade as slavery it would have had so much more support, but as it is, I still think it is doomed. The greater strength of the North will overpower it sooner rather than later.”

Dean waggled his eyebrows at his mate.

“Fancy a trip back upstairs so that I can overpower you?” he said suggestively. 

His mate grinned.

“I would like to see you try!”

+~+~+

Young Gideon Ferrers was seriously considering seeking therapy. Either that, or timing his visits to his grandparents' part of the house rather better.

+~+~+

Castiel sighed as he saw the figure of his grandson stretched out on the floor. Honestly, alphas. What use were they at times like these?

Fortunately there was his husband to hold their grandson's hand through the delivery, even if Dean had his eyes screwed tightly shut and was quietly whimpering at the pressure that Tip was exerting as the delivery ensued. Thank the Lord that it had been a long labour so that the doctor, who had been called out to a case in Tiverton, had been able to get back there. And Ashley Lindberg was one of the best, even if he was the son of the utterly unreliable Asher who was still.... well, Asher.

The most wonderful sound in the world had to be a pair of newborn lungs expressing their general dissatisfaction with matters at full volume. Whilst the doctor finished off, the nurse cleaned the baby and handed him to the new papa, then went round to tend to said new papa's useless husband who was still unconscious on the floor. Castiel smiled at his little omega great-grandson with whom he now shared his birthday.

“Did you decide what to call him?” he asked. Tip smiled.

“We thought about Tertius”, he said, “as he was our third baby. But in the end we chose.... Destiel. A fusion of Dean and Castiel.”

Dane Ferrers opened one eye and squinted at them both.

“Sounds good”, he muttered. “Is there pie to celebrate?”

Both omegas laughed.

+~+~+

“Sharpsburg.”

“Pardon?” Dean looked up from his non-pie dessert.

“Sharpsburg”, his mate reïterated. “Lincoln's troops have won a major victory. The Confederacy is doomed.”

“But many more will die before it does”, Dean said sadly. “I am only glad that Sammy and Zeke are in California, well out of it.”

“Better still, Lincoln had told the Southern states that he will free the slaves”, Castiel said. “Unless they rejoin the Union before the start of next year, he will make it official. I am glad; I had feared that as a politician he might have ratted on his word.”

“Talking of slaves”, his grandson Gideon said as he entered the room, “I found these upstairs.”

He placed a pair of leather hand-cuffs on the table and stared pointedly at both his grandfathers. 

“Oh”, Castiel said, “those are not ours.”

His grandson was clearly confused. Dean hid a smirk.

“Those are your father's”, Castiel said calmly.

His beta grandson went deathly pale.

“My.... my father's?” he squeaked.

“Yes”, his grandpapa said, seemingly oblivious to the boy's horror. “As a former slave he has these fantasies in which he likes to be tied up and dominated by his omega mate.”

Gideon seemed to be having trouble breathing.

“But.... I thought....”

“Oh no”, Castiel said calmly. “Mine and Dean's have _blue_ silk lining, not red. And I know that ours are safely upstairs, locked in the bedside.....”

Dean smirked at his retreating grandson's screams – until he caught his mate looking pointedly at the cuffs. 

Oh. It was going to be one of _those_ evenings.

“You have five minutes”, Castiel growled. “Be ready!”

Dean was already at the door.

ΩΑΩΑΩΑΩΑΩΑΩΑΩ

As Dean makes haste and Gideon looks into How To Disown Your Grandparents, we're almost there. One final epilogue in the form of _The Dashwood Inheritance: Ear-Plugs And Exits_ , set in 1873, where some things have changed but some have stayed very much the same. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Phoenix Ferrers' seat was one of the new ones created under the 1832 Great Reform Act, the old Devonshire constituency for all those areas outside the towns having been split in two. The seat was abolished under the 1885 Redistribution of the Seats Act; there is as of 2017 still a North Devon constituency covering a smaller area, although under planned changes this will be replaced by a slightly larger (and highly controversial) seat stretching across the border into Cornwall.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) The 'iron ship' was the first all-iron ship in the world, _“HMS Warrior”_. Castiel was as usual right; such was the pace of technological advancement that it was obsolete after barely a decade and a half. It is preserved, and can still be seen in the Royal Dockyard at Portsmouth, England.


End file.
